Monthly Archives: April 2016

“Yes, I’d like to order the steak. Is it possible to have it cooked separately in a pan, rather than on the grill?” I asked. The waiter confirmed that this was possible. I handed him the laminated orange card that listed my food allergies. “Could you bring this back to the chef? I called ahead, but just want to double check.”

“Sure, not a problem miss,” the waiter responded, his eyes going a bit wide as he read the lengthy list of ingredients. He paused and walked away, our menus tucked under one arm.

I shared a look with my sister and sister-in-law.

“He seemed a bit overwhelmed by that,” I commented.

We debated the risks and safety checks we’d gone through for this restaurant before turning to comment on the decor. The restaurant was a historical house, and we were eating in a room that had previously been a nursery. We commented on the dark wood, the paintings, the view of the square outside the window, and each took turns wandering the other rooms of the house, as the wait staff had encouraged us to do.

I took a deep breath as I looked into the different rooms. I had such success last night, I thought, I should try to relax and enjoy my meal more tonight. I had eaten out successfully three times already with no allergic reactions. The only disappointment the night before had been my inability to thoroughly enjoy my meal due to fear of an allergic reaction.

I thought through the conversation I’d had with tonight’s restaurant staff before arriving, their assurances, and the possible risks of my meal. Steak was usually pretty plain, and therefore a safer option. The only concern was cross-contamination on the grill.

We had had a full and successful day of touring around, ending with a beer on a rooftop overlooking the river before coming to dinner.

This, right now, was the most stressful part of the day. I returned to the table, and apologized for being distracted.

“It’s okay,” my sister said, “this is the point of the trip! So you can practice doing things like this. And you’ve been doing great so far at balancing pushing yourself with using the safe food you brought with you.” My sister-in-law agreed.

“Could you check, please?” I asked. I waited. He returned, said that the chef had read my card, and that the meal should be fine. He seemed miffed that I would push the question. I acquiesced, decided to eat slowly.

When you have food allergies, you should never allow yourself to feel bullied or pressured – by anyone, but especially by the restaurant staff – to eat the meal in front of you. I should have pushed the question, as the waiter never answered my initial question of whether the meal had been cooked separately.

A few minutes into the meal, my hands went cold and started to shake. My gums were itchy. I stopped eating and informed my sister and sister-in-law that I was starting to have an allergic reaction.

I took a chewable anti-histamine as they finished their meals, my beautiful steak going largely untouched. My cheeks flushed, my stomach growled. I felt nauseous. We paid as soon as we could and left to return to the hotel, not knowing if we were headed towards a trip to the local ER or just an anti-histamine-induced drowsiness.

Slowly, the shaking subsided, my stomach calmed, the itching decreased. No asthma developed, no tightening of my airways. I took a deep breath, frustrated and disappointed that I had ruined the meal and with my new fatigue, the rest of the evening. We sat in the lobby, debating our next plans.

“Well…” my pregnant sister-in-law began, putting her feet up on another nearby chair, “I could certainly use to put my feet up. Okay if we spend the rest of the night in?”

I smiled, relieved. I didn’t have to use my Epipen or go to the hospital, and I didn’t have to take responsibility for having a night in while in Savannah. The restaurant may have been a flop (and I did call to complain later), but my travel companions certainly were not!

Tips for food-allergic travel:

-Even if you call ahead, pick out a meal, and talk with the wait staff, go with your gut. If a meal seems unsafe or if you are uncomfortable, don’t eat it.

-Don’t allow haughty (or overwhelmed, or confused) restaurant staff to bully you into eating an unsafe meal. They won’t be the ones paying for an uneaten steak or stressing about an allergic reaction.

-Do ask the questions you need to ask, and keep asking until they are truly answered.

“You’re pulling a ‘Mom’,” my sister said to me, nudging me with her elbow.

“No, she’s not – your mom has a gift for talking with strangers. Johanna has a gift for finding people she already knows and talking to them, in any location. Anywhere in the world. She’s pulling a ‘Johanna,'” my sister-in-law replied. I smiled, adjusting my new sunglasses.

We were strolling through a sunny riverside market in Savannah, our last stop before returning to the hotel to dress for our early-bird-special dinner. (When you have food allergies, eating on the early side tends to be safer). I had just run into a woman I knew in the market. She runs a coffee shop at a beach in North Carolina during the summer, and I had gotten to know her from several visits there in the past. I did not expect to find someone I knew in Savannah, but was thrilled to make the connection! The world wasn’t quite so big, after all.

We continued our walk back to the hotel, planning our outfits for the evening and reviewing the highlights of the day.

Not only did I survive my trip to Savannah with food allergies, I loved the spirit of adventure about the trip. It was a balance of relaxed (our schedule and meandering pace) and planned-out (I’d researched each meal ahead of time). I’ll be posting several “snapshot” moments of the trip to share with you the details of food-allergic travel. Overall, the trip was a success. We explored the architecture of the city with a hop-on, hop-off trolley tour, ate dinner out with only one allergic reaction (and no trips to the hospital), visited a nearby beach and walked with our pale toes in the sand, went for a true Southern tea, and ended up on the same flight home as my dad (who had been traveling for business). Oh, and since it was a girls’ weekend, there may have also been pedicures, shopping, and cupcakes involved…

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